Digression
by dreamseeker09
Summary: Warfic. It was hard to remember sometimes, what he was fighting for. It didn't matter while he was on the battlefield – blood and charred flesh was all the same really. Ed breaks. Roy comforts. Armstrong sparkles.


**A/N: War fic. Because I love Edward war fics, especially angsty ones. If you know of any good ones, please recommend to me. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: trust me, if I owned FMA, Edward would be in a mental hospital by now for depression. Because yeah, I'm messed up enough to enjoy virtually torturing my favourite character. **

**Digression**

Edward hated it. The blood, the bodies, the death, the war, the flames, _The_ Flame. You see, that's what made it worse. It wasn't just the fact that he had to kill; it was the fact that Mustang was there to see it. It made him feel dirty, shameful, angry whenever he caught those sympathetic glances the others would shoot him when the battle was over. He could read their faces easily: _Poor boy, he's too young for this_. It made him angry and sad at the same time – because it was true, but at the same time he had proved countless times that he wasn't a child anymore.

He'd lost that privilege with his arm and leg and Alphonse's body.

_Alphonse. _

He was fighting for Alphonse. It was hard to remember sometimes, what he was fighting for. It didn't matter while he was on the battlefield – blood and charred flesh was all the same really. How long had it been since he'd even seen his little brother?

He thought he'd lost his sanity the first time he killed someone. He'd taken it too calmly – no hysterical screaming or crying – just numbness. Emptiness. The loss of a part of himself. He avoided Mustang and the others, he still was actually, because he couldn't face them. Not after what he'd done. Not as the monster he was. He didn't eat anymore, stayed up at nights thinking _'what if that man I killed today had a little brother as well? What if I died and left Al alone like that?' _

Edward had never wanted to kill. And he hated the Military for forcing him to.

He'd been fine really, distant but still held together, up until that one night. The day earlier, he'd killed hundreds with his alchemy. They called him the God with the Golden eyes, praised him for almost single-handedly wiping out the enemy force. He didn't want to, but Mustang's crew forced him to come to the celebration. They were celebrating for _him_, even if he didn't deserve it, so of course the guest of honour had to be there.

Loud music. Dancing, singing, food, alcohol. And that was when Edward cracked. He couldn't stand it, the fact that they were treating him like some hero, when he was anything but. Who cared if he had won the war or not? It wasn't worth it. Not all of the lives he took. Not the sanity he'd given up. He felt the tears welling in his eyes, the hysteria bubbling in his chest. Havoc was saying something to him, but it was just a blur.

"Edward, are you –,"

He ran. He didn't want to be there, he just wanted to be alone. Alone where no one would ever find him and he could live quietly and peacefully without war or death or gore. He'd made it to the edge of the camp, before his trembling legs finally gave out and he collapsed into the snow, letting the pain take over.

God, it was like acid. Burning him from the inside out, or like drinking bleach. He'd stored it, pent it up inside him, and now it released itself in a flood of emotions that poured out of him in the form of tears and sobs and screams.

He didn't know how long he'd knelt in the snow until he heard the footsteps behind him. And then there were arms around him, warm and comforting, and a placating voice in his ear.

"Fullmetal?" Fullmetal. A codename. It should be harsh, impersonal, but it never was when _he_ said it. It was almost a term of endearment.

"M-mustang?" Edward attempted to regain some form of self control, his pride reminding him that he would never live this down, but the comfort the older man offered was too enticing. It was like a lifeline, something to pull his sanity back, to remind him he was still human. He was still human, wasn't he?

Somehow, someway, he found himself sobbing into Mustang's uniform. How embarrassing this would be, if he was lucid enough to realise it.

The minutes dragged on, and eventually his cries subsided and the tears slowed down. Once Edward had been reduced to sniffles, he sat back quickly, his face blotchy and red, horror in his eyes at the thought that _the_ infamous fullmetal alchemist had just bawled his eyes out into his commanding officer's jacket.

Mustang let out a chuckle at his mortified expression. "It's okay, Fullmetal, I won't tell anyone," he said. "We all break sometimes."

"I-I…just, sort of snapped. I'm sorry."

"It's better than becoming an emotionless shell."

Edward sniffed, wiping his face with a red sleeve. "I hate this, Mustang. I hate everything; the killing, the war, the death. I hate myself."

"You're a dog of the military," the older alchemist sighed sadly. "You gave up your freedom willingly. You knew what the price was."

"But does that make this right?"

Edward knew the answer, and so did Roy. He could see it in those onyx eyes hardened by years more of experience. Killing was never right, but neither did they have a choice.

"As crazy as this sounds, you're saving people, Edward," Roy muttered softly. He put a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. "We fight this war for a reason. We fight it because we have people to protect, isn't that right?"

"Yes," Edward nodded, ashamed. "Al. I need to protect him."

"Exactly. And are you willing to do whatever it takes to protect him?"

"Yes."

"Even kill?"

"I…" Ed stopped, unsure, lowered his eyes. He knew, though. He'd already proved it. "Yes."

Roy smiled, a bitter and tired smile. "Then that means you are still human. You see, that's what makes us more than tools. We fight for other people, not ourselves. We fight for them, and we win."

"How are you so sure of that?"

"Because when the best two alchemists in the Amestrian Military are on the same side, the enemy stands no chance."

Edward laughed, but it was an unbearably sad sound. "I'm not so sure of that, Colonel bastard."

"You're a real cynic, you know Ed."

"I've been told." Edward paused, then continued thoughtfully: "So who do you fight to protect, then?"

"Our country."

"You're a real martyr, you know Roy," Edward smirked.

"I'm not dead yet," the raven-haired alchemist returned with an equally playful grin.

However the smile quickly faded again. "You'd better not die, Colonel bastard," Edward said. "This war is going to be over soon. Drachma will retreat, and we'll go home, and everything will be okay. Right?"

There was an air of fragility about the boy, something like a lost childhood innocence. It was almost sweet. Roy smiled gently and nodded. "Yes. Everything will be okay," he assured. He didn't know how truthful that was at the moment, but he knew he would do everything possible to make it real. Anything so that Edward could go home, find Alphonse and restore his body like he'd been trying to before the world went to shit.

Suddenly, a loud and overly dramatic sob sounded from behind them. "Oh isn't that just the most beautiful thing you've ever heard?" Armstrong, in all of his pink-sparkly glory, appeared seemingly out of nowhere with tears streaming down his face. "The everlasting bond of love between a commander and subordinate, two young hearts strewn with guilt. Oh the tragedy, the glory, the BEAUTY!"

Roy and Edward sat in stunned silence, watching the scene with growing fear. "Did he…just insinuate that we're gay together? And call us _pretty?_" Edward whispered in horror, mostly at the fact that he would never be able to un-see _or_ un-hear any of this.

_Snap. _Out of nowhere Hughes was there as well, taking pictures of their awe-struck faces with an exclamation of: "Aww, aren't you two just adorable with your little father-son moment going on."

And then Havoc and Riza, ambling onto the scene. Havoc with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth and a suggestive wink: "Heard the whole thing. Some pretty intense stuff going on there. Oh yeah, and love you too chief."

Edward had since turned bright red, and was tempted to hide behind Mustang who seemed equally humiliated. "I say we run for it," Ed whispered.

Roy could only nod weakly in agreement. "The things I do for you, fullmetal."

And then all hell broke loose.

**A/N: I don't even know. It was originally meant to be a serious full on angst-fest, but somehow it turned funny? What the hell, plot bunny? Don't blame me, they do the thinking, I just write! Well, either way, it was pretty fun to write. Especially Armstrong, gotta love that guy and his pink sparkles. Unfortunately I don't think this piece can be taken seriously anymore, but oh well. Hope you enjoyed and please please PLEASE review. It will make my week. **

**Merry Christmas!**


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